


Reunion

by peachtofu



Category: The Poppy War - R. F. Kuang
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachtofu/pseuds/peachtofu
Summary: THE BURNING GOD SPOILERS. The story takes place a decade after the ending of The Burning God.Fire and water, though elements from the same earth, were never meant to be. For one to survive, it must extinguish the other.
Relationships: Fang Runin/Yin Nezha
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> TW // Character death, grief, suicide 
> 
> I just HAD to write this, I'm sorry! If you haven't read THE BURNING GOD, do not proceed.

“It’s time, sir.”

Nezha sighed, closing the book he was reading. “I’ll be down soon, just give me a minute.” The servant nodded and closed the door to Nezha’s office, leaving him alone to his thoughts. 

As Nezha dressed, he noticed the basket of fruits, dried fish, poppy flowers, and sorghum wine that the servants prepared placed on his work table. Such an odd combination, yet they represent his worldly connection to the dead. Fruits for their time at Sinegard. Dried fish for the meals they shared during Yin Vaisra’s campaign against the North. Poppy flowers for her, the only flower that adorns the House of Yin. And the sorghum wine for the borrowed time of happiness that they were allowed from the gods. 

The servants in the house don’t know what day it is. All they know is that for the past ten years, Nezha disappears from the House of Yin for days during the solemn winter with a basket of fruits, dried fish, poppy flowers, and sorghum wine. And all they know is that Nezha shuts himself in his chamber when he comes back. The servants do know, however, that evil spirits roam the House of Yin, whose rage so vile that it sinks into the soul of the House, drowning any sense of life and colouring the estate in a cloud of grim, weary gray. That’s what they call the House of Yin: The Palace of Sins. Except the servants know that such sins can never be atoned. Most nights, hysteric sounds could be heard from Yin Nezha’s chambers. The servants wondered whether they were of laughter or sobs. Other nights, they’d find the field of poppy flowers ablaze under the moonlight but one blink and the fire was gone. Among such rumors, the guards insisted that they too, can sometimes smell sorghum wine during the night, accompanied by the laughters of four kids—one sounding eerily similar to Yin Nezha’s. 

Before leaving, Nezha paid a visit to an old friend. A sister, almost. In front of Sring Venka’s body-less grave is a tombstone etched with her name accompanied by the phrase “General of the Southern Army under Fang Runin.” It was the least Nezha could do to honor her, rewriting her fate as not the traitor but one of the most powerful generals in Nikan’s history. And also to remember her, to allow her spirit to pass on with the reassurance that someone has not forgotten. He placed a bouquet of poppy flowers, a bottle of sorghum wine, and a glass in front of the grave. “I’m going to see our old friends again. Today is a special day” He whispered to Venka. Nezha then headed South--towards Speer. 

Nezha trudged through the sand on Speer, each step heavier, throbbing as he neared his old friends’ graves. Each step leads him closer to that day—that fated day when the gods welcomed back their divine creature to the Pantheon, his divine creature. _Ten years_ , ten years of complete, utter loneliness, of her ghost haunting him. Nezha welcomes her ghost and any fragments of her that his mind conjures, embracing the nightmares because he knows that this is how the gods punish foolish humans. 

Speer, like ten years ago, remained barren--Nezha had declared the land sacred, the law punishable by death if anyone tries to settle here. And all this time, the ashes remained. The burning rage of the Speerlies materialized into these ashes, physical figments to remind the world of their history, their pain, and their legacy. The Hesperians had demanded to use Speer for their military base, a necessary condition to ensure peace in Nikan they’d said. But Nezha refused, how could he not? Speer honors the bodies of the Nikan’s two saviors, the forgotten heroes of their country. In history books, Fang Runin and Chen Kitay had been written as the ones at the mercy of Yin Nezha. But little did the world know that Yin Nezha was instead, the one at their mercy, the sinner rewritten as the saint. 

But among this barren land a single poppy flower marked the pair’s graves. Nezha wonders if that’s Rin giving him one last piece of her— a twisted gift to remind him of their thread of fate among the tapestry weaved by the gods. Nezha wondered if she ever loved him at all, maybe she never did. Fire and water, though elements from the same earth, were never meant to be. For one to survive, it must extinguish the other. Like waves swallowing the sun when night falls, Nezha drowned her fire only for it to rise again tomorrow. Phoenixes are birds of flames and ashes. They symbolize birth and death—the cycle of humanity. Rin knew. She knew that her death symbolizes a rebirth for Nikan, an end to the imbalance in the pendulum caused by her fire and Nezha’s water. When he buried her, he buried his love. But love can’t be buried, it hides itself in all the shades of crimson that he sees. 

“It’s been ten years and I still don’t know what to say. You’ve seen the Pantheon--the gods. I wonder how it is where you are. Are you with Kitay? Or are you laughing at my foolish self with Venka? Or have you made peace with Altan yet?” Nezha choked. “I miss you. I miss all of you. It’s so fucking lonely.” 

Nezha allowed the tears to fall, “It’s funny, isn’t it? All those years wishing that I’d die only to be the only one alive. This world is a sick joke for the gods.” He lowered himself onto his knees, bowing his head in front of their graves. “Wait for me, will you? I’ll catch up to you soon. Please, wait for me.” 

The house of Yin should have ended with Riga, Nezha knew this, for their blood breeds grotesque monsters hidden behind the skins of men. Monsters that should have never been unleashed onto this earth. He knew that power drives men mad, hungry to be the gods that they’ll never be. And so he takes out the knife that he plunged into Rin’s heart a decade ago, and this time, twisted it deep into his own. He watched as his own blood bleed into the ashes on Speer, feeling the rage of Dragon twisting within him. “Please, let me go,” he croaked. Finally, the world spun and colors dimmed. 

Nezha laid in his own pool of blood next to Kitay and Rin, grinning as he reunites with old friends.


End file.
